


Half Formed Thought.

by CountlessUntruths (KaliCephirot)



Category: Kyou Kara Maou!
Genre: Crossdressing, Lingerie, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-19
Updated: 2007-03-19
Packaged: 2018-09-13 06:00:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9109711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaliCephirot/pseuds/CountlessUntruths
Summary: It had been barely a half formed thought, the idea of Günther in stockings and high heels.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://springkink.livejournal.com/profile)[springkink](http://springkink.livejournal.com/): _Kyou Kara Maou, Gwendal/Gunter: Crossdressing - "cute things"_

  
**Half Formed Thought.**  


It had been barely a half formed thought when he had mentioned it to Günther before falling asleep. Günther, unsurprisingly, thought that couples should share as much as possible, including possible fantasies. Really hoping to go to sleep while his body was still mostly warm and sated, Gwendal had suggested the first thing that came to his mind without really meaning it.

Well. Perhaps he meant it only a little. Perhaps the idea of Günther in stockings and high heels, hair falling like silk over his back and over his shoulders as he leaned forward had kept him a bit entertained here and there through the paperwork but it had been – or so Gwendal tells himelf – mostly a joke.

He should have remembered that Günther tended to take things like that literally and without questions.

When he goes to his room, two weeks after that night, he's not surprised to find Günther there, had been kind of hoping that the noble would have ended with his obligations. Günther isn't wearing his uniform, the loose shape of a silk robe barely enough to disguise this as he sits in front of the mirror of his room. He smiles against his mouth once Gwendal kisses him, sucking gently on his lower lip and moving a hand to the back of his neck. His hair is dry but his skin smells clean and sweet, a much more delicate aroma than usual clinging to his fair skin. Before he can ask, Günther smiles at him, breaking the kiss.

“Do me a favor,” Günther asks, pushing him softly away. “And sit by the bed, okay?”

“And?”

Günther smiles. “And watch.”

Gwendal raises an eyebrow but complies, just pausing long enough to divest himself from his coat, leaving the heavy fabric rest over another bench. He almost sits on top of a gown, and still Gwendal isn't sure what's going on until he sees Günther smoothing lotion up his legs.

Günther turns over the bench he's sitting at, smoothing lotions all the way up to his thighs, then picking up a pair of stockings that Gwendal hadn't repaired on, and that, along with the gown by his side... his breath catches but he doesn't move his eyes away as Günther starts slipping the stocking slowly up his foot, smoothing it over his calf, carefully fixing the creases so the brief whisper of silk would lay smooth against his leg. Stands up and his hands keep on pulling the stocking until the soft white roses of it are resting at the middle of Günther's thigh.

Gwendal swallows when Günther picks up the other one and repeats the process with utmost care. Gwendal unbuttons the top of his shirt, and Günther picks up a gartier belt, securing it on top of his hips to be able to secure the elastic to the stockings.

He can't help but notice that Günther completely ignored any kind of underwear for this as Günther opens the robe and let's it fall a blue shimmer of silk as it slips off his chest and arms and pools on the ground. Günther sits again and leans to pick back the robe, the smooth fall of his hair over his shoulder and chest as he leaves it next to him.

Next comes the silver form of a top that barely reaches to Günther's navel. Gwendal licks his lips and shifts where he's sitting but doesn't move. Günther turns to face the mirror again and picks up his brush, picking up strands of hair with fingers that are just as dexterous with a pen or a sword to twist and twirl the strands into place, lifting his hair up, with only wisps of hair teasing his neck.

He almost breaks the silence when he sees Günther picking up the eyeliner, but Günther finds his eyes through the mirror and just makes a soft motion and he remains quiet, watching how he applies the kohl evenly, smudging it to perfecting with a fingertip before repeating the process with the other eye, then applying mascara. Even through the reflection, Gwendal can notice how his eyelashes seem fuller and soft. He wonders if Günther will use lipstick, but the other man just opens a small vial and, with his pinky, smooths clear balm over his lips.

Gwendal shifts again as Günther stands up, noticing the curve of his ass and his half hard cock but doesn't move to follow him. Günther is careful as he steps in a pair stilettos, and Gwendal is amazed at the grace that Günther has as he moves next to him, where a formal gown had been waiting.

Once he has put it, Günther stops in front of him, presenting him with his back and the undone laces of the dress.

“Help me, please?” Gwendal swallows but nods, feeling too clumsy, almost a teenager again, even knowing that Günther isn't looking at him. His hands itch to touch the skin of Günther's back but he forces his hand just to move just at the ribbons, tugging, tensing it, making the bodice mold against Günther's body and then Günther gives a small sound and his throat goes dry.

After that, Günther steps away and looks in the mirror for a moment before turning towards him, a soft smile and just a hint of mischief in his eyes, a hint of need that makes Gwendal swallow again.

“Well,” he asks, walking towards him slowly and carefully. Probably because of the heels. “What do you think?”

Gwendal licks his lips and has to try twice before he finds his voice. “You look amazing.”

“You think so?”

Gwendal nods and stands up until he's in front of Gwendal, moves his hands over the tight bodice of the dress and smiles, just a little, clearing his throat to avoid it doing something as embarrassing as cracking.

“I do,” he says, pressing Günther against him, watching how he smiles and how his hands press against his chest, playing with the open buttons of his shirt, leaning forward to kiss him, tasting honey from the balm before he murmurs against his lips. “In fact, it's almost a shame I'm getting you off this dress in the next five minutes or so.”  



End file.
